Crazy Sexy Notion

by Sarah Darlington

  Aaaah! It suddenly occurred to me that he wasn’t in his crutches. That he’d run here on his foot. What was he thinking? “Your foot,” I sputtered out.

  “The team physician cleared me to walk on it without the crutches. He said it was healing nicely. Although—not sure if running on it was okay? You mind if I drive everyone back in the car and then come back and get you at one?”

  I shrugged. “It’s your car.”

  He frowned. But I didn’t have time to analyze what his frown meant, good or bad, because the anxiousness I felt in my stomach wasn’t going anywhere.

  “I need to get back to work,” I told him. “Thanks for watching Samantha for me. See you at one.” I turned around and left for the front counter downstairs.

  I’d never be good enough for ‘Mick Jasmine.’ I wasn’t even sure why I’d been trying to fool myself with him lately—allowing so many kisses to happen between us, with each one wishing for some unattainable future with him. It needed to stop. It needed to stop before I became anymore invested than I already was.

  CHAPTER 17:

  MICK

  One o’clock could not come soon enough. I needed Raven home. I had way too much stuff that I needed to discuss with her. Like, for starters, how I’d just told Nick that he could live with us for the next two weeks.

  My brother only had two more weeks until his freshman year of college was set to begin. He’d confessed to me that he wasn’t in a good place, whatever that meant, and the moment he did I asked him to stay with me for the rest of the summer. I knew how overbearing our parents could be. He agreed. So now I was in Raven’s room, gathering what little stuff she had to move over to my room. Because the only other bed options in the house were the attic—and I wasn’t about to move Samantha—and the pullout couch on the sofa in the living room. I figured the best option was moving Raven in with me. I wanted her in my bedroom permanently anyway.

  So I moved her stuff.

  Though, I had this gut-turning feeling she wasn’t going to be pleased about it.

  Once I finished, I hurried downstairs. “I’ll be back right back. I have to go get Raven. Samantha, want to come with me?”

  “Can I stay with Nick?”

  She sat on the couch, her legs crossed and her eyes glued on the TV, playing a game with Nick on the PlayStation. “Fine. Watch her Nick—I’ll be back in less than five minute.”

  Hurrying outside to my dented Corvette, I climbed into the driver’s seat. There was no chance that this second dent was a coincidence. The first time it happened I figured it was some random hit-and-run. But now I had an entirely new theory. One word: Sandra. That woman would stop at nothing to get back at me. And to think, I once thought her meek. I really didn’t care what she did to my car. Well, actually, I kind of cared. But I cared more about how it was affecting Raven. So first chance I got, Sandra and I were going to have some serious words.

  I sped the short mile down the street to the library. Pulling up in front of the building, I parked the car. Raven was already waiting outside for me. She saw me and opened the door, hopping inside. My heart picked up speed at her available. “Hey,” I breathed.

  “Hey.”

  “Were you waiting long?”

  “No.” She slammed her door, buckling her seatbelt.

  From the corner of my eye, I glanced at her. She seemed tense. Or maybe annoyed. I started to ask her something else, but she cut me off with a sigh, giving me the impression that she didn’t want to talk. So I put the car in drive and headed home. I drove much slower on the return drive. It didn’t matter, though, Raven didn’t say a single word.

  Once we were inside the house, she headed immediately for the stairs.

  I followed.

  “What are you doing?” she said over her shoulder as I trailed her up the staircase.

  “We need to talk.”

  “Can it wait?” She glared at me. I hated being on the receiving end of her rage. Especially when I didn’t even know why I was on the receiving end. What had happened to her in the last couple hours? “I need to change,” she snapped. “Plus, I’m exhausted.”

  “This can’t wait.”

  She sighed. And at the top of the stairs, I followed her into her room. Well, her old room now. For a moment she didn’t notice that her stuff was missing. She simply sat on the bed, looking hella pissed, and started to pull off her boots. “What do you want, Mick? You’re kind of invading my privacy at the moment.”

  “Mick?” I crossed my arms, leaning on the door frame. In my entire life she’d never called me ‘Mick.’ Not as kids. Not even on the day I first picked her up, and I specifically asked her to call me it. Somehow, when she said ‘Mick,’ my own name cut like a fucking knife.

  “Yeah, Mick,” she answered curtly. “That’s your name, right? That’s what everyone calls you.”

  I swallowed. “What the hell is going on?”

  “Nothing.” That was when she noticed something was wrong with her room. She glanced around. Not only had I moved her stuff out, I’d also changed the sheets and the comforter on the bed for my brother. I’d vacuumed, and moved some of the furniture she’d rearranged back into place. It looked as if she’d never lived here at all, and I realized how horrible it must look through her eyes.

  She sucked in a breath.

  “Your stuff is in my room,” I blurted out, before she had time to think the worst. “I want you staying in there with me from now on. You belong there. You’ve always belonged there. And don’t you dare call me ‘Mick’ again.” My heart pounded as I spoke. No more holding back my feelings with her. Fuck it, I was going to start putting it all on the line from here on out.

  “Don’t you dare?” She chuckled, mocking my words.

  “Yes. I like that you call me ‘Mickey.’ No one else but you does—or gets to. Ever since I left Pecan and left you, I’ve never let anyone call me it. Ever. I always hated it. But when you call me it it’s different. So don’t stop.”

  Raven stood, her green eyes cutting me like daggers, and she pushed past me—heading to my room now. “Whatever, Mickey. Whatever.”

  I followed, despite the fact that my presence only seemed to be making her angrier by the minute. In my room she peeled off her white blouse, flinging the shirt to the floor, and she walked for my closet in nothing but her black, lace bra.

  I tried to breathe evenly. Because seeing her like that made the blood in my body pump harder and I knew now wasn’t the time to let my mind wander.

  Raven reemerged from the closet with a gray cashmere sweater. A sweater I knew belonged to Sandra and had come from the box in my closet. I knew it because I’d bought it for Sandra on last birthday. Raven yanked it on over her head, pulling it down over the swells of her perfect breasts, hiding that glimpse of her black bra. “Um?” I said, thinking, realizing that this wasn’t the first article of clothing of Sandra’s that Raven had worn. What?

  “I’ve been dying to wear this sweater,” she told me, almost like a challenge.

  “So you’ve been wearing her clothes regularly?”

  “Yep. I was picking out the most bland, generic stuff so you wouldn’t notice. But I don’t care if you know anymore.” She sat on my bed. I stayed standing. I really had no idea what was happening at the moment.

  “Okay.” I let this information sink in. I couldn’t decide if it bothered me or not. “Why have you been wearing her stuff?”

  “I’m not entirely sure. Because I needed more appropriate stuff to fit in here. Because I could. Because I wanted to see how long it would take you to notice. Because I liked pretending I was something I’m not. Who the hell knows? Does it matter? So let me tell you a story.”

  Oh God, I hated the sound of that. “Okay.”

  “About a girl who lost her best friend and her virginity in the same year. I didn’t lose my virginity to your cousin Jack. I lied about that. Well, not entirely. Jack was my first—my first by choice.”

  Fuck. My heart dropped to the floor. My k
nees went weak. A lump formed in my throat.

  Raven kept talking—fast and agitated. “I lost my virginity to your Uncle Cody. Your mom’s drunk, deadbeat brother. I used to still hang out your house, even after you left. I guess some part of me wanted to stay close to you, close to your room, close to the toys you left behind. Stupid, stupid me. I went over there one time, your mom wasn’t home, but Cody was. So there’s that. Mickey, I hate you for that. I’m never going to forgive you for that. And then there’s your cousin Jack.”

  I was having an impossible time breathing. I need to sit, but I kept standing. I kept listening. I kept my eyes locked on her. I needed to hear all of this.

  “Your cousin Jack is Samantha’s dad—by the way. What does that make you? Like her second cousin? I have no idea. It’s all so backwoods fucked up, who the hell knows? You have Samantha’s eyes. I guess you haven’t noticed that. Jack and I dated on and off over the years, but more seriously my senior year of high school. I almost thought I loved him. He was a lesser version of you, but there were similarities there, similarities I liked. Then he left town though when he found out I was pregnant. I haven’t heard from him since.”

  “Raven, I—”

  “I’m not done,” she continued, not letting me get a word in. She stood, her arms crossed over her chest. “I was pregnant. I was scared. And some stupid part of me thought you’d come swoop in and rescue me. Because that’s what you said. You remember? On the day you left. You said it. ‘I’ll be back for you.’ But you never came back. So I went to New York City—I went to you. I drove all the way, I walked across the NYU campus in the snow, but I turned around before I ever found you. Because what would you have done if I showed up at your dorm room, knocking on the door? You probably would have broken my heart all over again.”

  My skin burned. I breathed in bits of air in short, choppy breaths. No wonder she hated me so much. She had every right to. I hated me too right now. My family back in Pecan had hurt her in ways I never even could have imagined—all because I’d left. I’d always felt conflicted over my decision to leave, because I loved my dad, stepmom, and Nick. I couldn’t image a life without them in it. But for the first time ever I regretted basically every decision I’d ever made in my life. I wanted to take back the last fifteen years.

  “Why are telling me all of this now?” I choked out. “What happened at the library in this time since I left you that made you want to tell me? I mean, it’s good that I know now. But, fuck, it’s a lot to take in.” It felt like drowning hearing it all—like my head was being held underwater.

  “Nothing happened at the library.” With a giant sigh, she flopped backward on my bed. “Well, I realized something actually. It doesn’t matter though. I’m tired.” I could almost visibly see her walls building back up. “Would you mind keeping Samantha busy for like another hour while I rest?”

  “I don’t mind. What did you realize?”

  “Like I said, it doesn’t matter.” Her voice wobbled a little, telling me it didn’t matter. Whatever it was it had sparked this whole conversation. I’d give her space if she needed it—for now. I started to turn for the door, but she needed to know something before I left the room.

  “I remember the night my freshman year that it snowed,” I told her. “It only snowed once that winter so it sticks out in my mind. I had a few friends over. We were drinking, pre-gaming in my room, then we went out later and played a drunken, hazy game of football in the snow.” That was the extent of what happened that night, but I pictured the alternative reality in my head as I spoke—Raven showing up at my dorm, pregnant, alone, looking for me. I pictured how I would have reacted seeing her again that night. “I was young. I was a lot stupider and a lot more reckless then than I am now. If you can image that. But if you would have come to me that night, I would have sent my friends away. I would have insisted you stay with me. I would have held you close to me. I would have told you everything was going to be fine. I would have taken care of you. Not for one night. Permanently.”

  “That’s bullshit,” she muttered, not looking at me, only staring up at the ceiling.

  “It’s not bullshit,” I argued.

  “You can say that now—as an adult. But would you really have done all that at eighteen?”

  “Yes. I would have.” I swallowed hard, standing there, staring at her body lying across the top of my bed. My heart pounded inside my chest. “I would have taken one look at you and fallen in love with you. The same way I fell in love with you when we were kids. The same way I’m in love with you now. Loving you is just inevitable. It doesn’t matter how old I am or where I am in my life. So, yes, I know with absolute certainty how I would have handled things had you come to me that night.”

  A deafening silence followed my words.

  She said nothing. She didn’t move. She certainly didn’t look at me. I gave my words a couple long seconds to sink in and marinate. When she still didn’t respond, I added, “I did come for you. I should have come sooner, but I did come for you.” I sighed, nothing I was saying was getting through to her. “I’ll be downstairs.”

  CHAPTER 18:

  RAVEN

  Holy mother of…

  I laid on top of Mickey’s comforter, staring up at the ceiling. He’d long since left the room, but I hadn’t moved an inch since he disappeared. My heart hadn’t slowed its wild, unremitting beating either. He’d said he loved me. Holy shit. I wasn’t entirely sure I hadn’t hallucinated it. But I was pretty sure that was what he’d said.

  You don’t love him back, I reassured myself.

  I had a laundry list of reasons to hate him. All of them completely valid. If Mickey never would have left me and Pecan, maybe I never would have been hurt by his uncle. Maybe. Maybe I never would have messed around with his cousin Jack all those times, and maybe I wouldn’t have ended up pregnant either. A sickening feeling hit me because Samantha meant everything to me. I’d gladly have endured the shit in my life as long as it meant I still had her too. And then there was the biggest maybe of all. Maybe if Mickey never left Pecan he wouldn’t have turned into the man he was today. Instead, maybe he would have turned into another Cody or Jack. Fuck, I hated that thought. Because the Mickey that had grown up in Maine, with love and a good family, had turned out to be to be a decent and kind man. I wasn’t sure if I would have liked a different version of him as much.

  “You don’t love him back,” I said the words out loud this time. Well...more like I chocked them out.

  I sat up. The room spun a little, and my hands were shaking. I got out of bed.

  When I basically ‘truth dumped’ every little horrible thing about myself that I could think of on Mickey, I think I’d done it because I wanted to test him. See how he’d react to it all, even to me wearing Sandra’s clothes. See if he could handle all the bad. And he’d handled it all so perfectly. I couldn’t have unloaded that sort of crap on just any man. More evidence that he was way too good for me.

  I clutched my chest through my shirt—or rather the soft fabric of Sandra’s shirt. “You don’t...” I started to say the same words for a third time. But I couldn’t bite the words out. I couldn’t convince myself otherwise. It kind of boiled down to what Mickey had said about that snowy day in New York, and how inevitably it would have happened for us no matter the timeline. Was he right?

  With tears in my eyes, I left the bedroom and went downstairs. I didn’t know what I was going to say to Mickey, but I was going to say something. Only…the house was quiet. There was no one in the living room. Had it been that long since Mickey left me in the room?

  In the kitchen I found a note in Mickey’s handwriting.

  We went out for pizza. I hope that’s okay. I’ll bring you some back. —M

  Of course he would. He might just be the only considerate man in the world. Although, he was getting awfully comfortable parenting Samantha. I couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not.

  I paced around the kitchen, snacked on a few Ch
eetos from the pantry, read a sports magazine Mickey had sitting on the counter, and killed time while basically giving myself a moment to calm the hell down. After an hour had passed and they still hadn’t returned, I started to head back upstairs. Maybe I’d take that nap after all.

  But, stopping at the foot of the stairs, I heard the front door opening. Mickey usually came and went through the garage door, but I guess not this time. For a split second I couldn’t decide if should race upstairs or if I should face him. Ultimately I stayed still, determined to stay strong and be confident.

  Only—Mickey didn’t come through the door. A women did. A woman with the skin of angel. Her blonde hair fell in the most perfect rings. She was about my same height and weight, maybe a little thinner, and she wore khakis and a white blouse with a handkerchief tied around her neck. I knew immediately it was Sandra. I’d never seen a picture of her, but by her generic clothes alone, and that weird-ass handkerchief, I knew it was her.

  Rookie Mistake Number One: Not changing the locks after a breakup.

  “Hi,” I said across the open space of the foyer. “Can I help you?”

  I think she missed the sass in my voice because she answered, “Oh, hi. I didn’t know anyone was home. No, Ma’am, I don’t need any help. I’m Sandra Bryant, Mr. Jasmine’s girlfriend.” She clicked the door shut behind her. “I don’t believe we’ve met. He usually has the maid service come on the weekends.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes.” She sighed, dropping her purse on the built-in bench. “I won’t get in your way, I’m just looking for—” Her eyes fell on my gray sweater. Correction, her gray sweater. She took a tentative step in my direction. “Excuse me, but that’s a beautiful sweater you have on.”

  “Oh, this old thing. Thank you.” I smiled politely.

  “I think I have one just like it.”